


The Girls They Pull My Hair

by bboiseux



Series: Slip and Fall If I Take One More Step [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bathroom Sex (Implied), C2E010, Dancing, F/F, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Modern AU, Monk's Flower, club scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bboiseux/pseuds/bboiseux
Summary: The girl had been catching her eye all night.  Beau hadn’t been watching her, her eyes had just happened to catch her.  Again and again.  Besides, the girl wasn’t even her type.  She was glam, to start with, red hair cut and styled into the latest fashion—straight bangs, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed messiness.  Her eye make up was a glittering green that swooped wide and her lips were a deep stained wine color.  Femme wasn’t what Beau usually looked for.  But then she’d seen her move—arms (bare from a plain white tank top) flowing above her head, hips swaying, bare feet peeking out from beneath a peasant skirt—and the movement had been so primal that Beau had heard the thud of her own heart over the music.Beau meets Keyleth.  Sparks fly.





	The Girls They Pull My Hair

**Author's Note:**

> I see your Beau/Yasha and I raise you Beau/Keyleth.
> 
> Title from "Bang Bang Bang Bang" by the Sohodolls, which is what I was listening to when this popped into my head.

Even from across the room, with the music thudding and the lights strobing, it looked bad.  The redhead had flushed, glanced desperately at her friend nursing a drink at the bar, and then turned back to Beau with a confused smile on her face.

Mollymauk grinned.  “Oh, this is going to be a disaster.”

Yasha punched him in the arm, which, he had to admit, hurt quite a bit.  “Be nice.  I’m sure it’ll be . . .”  She grimaced as she watched the scene unfolding.  “Fine.”

 

It turned out that Beau’s opening line of “Hey, babe, you look fine” hadn’t landed quite as expected.

The girl had been catching her eye all night.  Beau hadn’t been watching her, her eyes had just happened to catch her.  Again and again.  Besides, the girl wasn’t even her type.  She was glam, to start with, red hair cut and styled into the latest fashion—straight bangs, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed messiness.  Her eye make up was a glittering green that swooped wide and her lips were a deep-stained wine color.  Femme wasn’t what Beau usually looked for.  But then she’d seen her move—arms (bare from a plain white tank top) flowing above her head, hips swaying, bare feet peeking out from beneath a peasant skirt—and the movement had been so primal that Beau had heard the thud of her own heart over the music.

So, here she was.

She ruffled her undercut and tried again.  “I mean, you look really good.  Really nice.  Like, if it’s okay for me to say that.”

The girl’s cheeks were flushed now and her white-haired friend at the bar was smirking into his drink—a whiskey, which marked him out as a prick, thought Beau.

“Oh, yeah, that’s really nice of you.  Thank you.”  The girl stumbled over her words.  Beau couldn’t tell if it was a slight tipsiness or being thrown off by the compliment. “Um, I’m Keyleth.”  She held out her hand to Beau.

Beau took it.  She was amazed that anyone’s hands could feel so smooth . . . and warm.  She shook the hand gently.  This close she could smell Keyleth’s perfume or soap or body wash or some shit like that.  It was like a splash of fresh air over the background stink of sweat and smoke—all jasmine and freshly melted snow.  “I’m Beau.  Want to dance?”

Keyleth looked back at the man.  “Hey, Percy are—”

Percy waved his hand, “I assure you I am perfectly fine drinking by myself.  Go enjoy yourself.”

Keyleth dropped her clutch on the bar next to the prick-called-Percy and followed Beau out towards the churning mass of bodies flickering in the multicolored light.  In the dull roar of music, Beau could barely make out Keyleth’s words, but she was talking up a storm, if her wild gestures were anything to go by.  Beau made out something like “dancing just lets you be” and then she grabbed Keyleth’s hand and led her into the swirling crush.

Their bodies found the tempo and bounded into movement.  Keyleth moved with a jerking, swaying movement that cleared the space around them, her eyes closed and totally absorbed into the clenching thrust of the bass.  Beau’s movements were small and aggressive—her feet stomped the floor and her arms pumped the air.  She pounded within the beat, around the beat, but never quite with the beat.  Yet, dancing side-by-side, the two sets of movements, so different, intertwined.  When Keyleth’s arms jerked out, reacting to the change in beat, Beau was in a new space.  When Beau smashed the floor with rapid stomps of her boots, Keyleth twirled an airy circle.  More than anyone else on the floor, they both seemed willing to let the music take them where it would.  So they danced.

They danced for so long they lost the time.  Their arms went tired and their legs tingled and sweat soaked their shirts and their hair.  Keyleth’s makeup streaked down her face—green rivers of sparkle and a streak to the side where she’d wiped her face—and Beau wrapped her plaid flannel around her waist.  But then Beau let her hand do what it had been longing to do all night and rest on Keyleth’s waist and she felt a shock up her spine.  Keyleth dropped her arms around Beau’s neck, her hips still swaying to the beat, but her eyes locked on Beau’s.

 

“Well, fuck.  This is shaping up to be a crap night.”  Molly downed his beer.

Yasha rolled her eyes.  “You’re just jealous.  Why don’t you challenge yourself and try to pick up that piece of ass over there.”  She pointed towards the bar.

Molly followed her finger to the proper, straight-backed figure of Percy, perched on a bar stool.  He stood up and straightened out his purple, fur-lined jacket.  “You know what?  You’re right.”

 

They were in the hallway to the bathrooms and Keyleth’s lips tasted bitter from the lipstick, but sweet because they were hers.  Beau pressed her against the wall, almost knocking over an out-of-place fern, tangling her fingers in the long hair.  Keyleth’s nails scrapped down her back, through the torn and ratty t-shirt, as Beau kissed along Keyleth’s neck.  She smelled of sweat now—all salt and musk—and Beau went dizzy from how it mixed with just that hint of leftover perfume.  Her hands rested on the hot, wet skin under the tank top and she slid them up, feeling the contour of Keyleth’s body.

Keyleth pushed her away and shook her head.  “No.”

Beau looked around and jerked her head towards the bathroom.  “We can find a stall in there.  I promise you a good time.”

Keyleth laughed and the sound both irritated and delighted Beau.  “That’s—that’s not really my thing.”

“Uh.  We can go back to my place—well, okay, maybe not.  How about your place?”

Keyleth smiled sweetly and kissed Beau.  Beau’s first reaction was to slam her back against the wall, to start everything all over again, but she just stayed stock still as Keyleth pulled back and said, “Do you have a phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I have it for a minute?”

Beau pulled it out of her back pocket.  “Okay.”

Keyleth took the phone—a cheap Android with no cover and a broken screen—and swiped away.  Beau watched her in the pale screen glow, Keyleth scrunching up her face as she navigated around.  Finally, she held the phone away and clicked a selfie, pressed a button, and turned the screen to Beau.  On the screen it said “Key-key” with a slightly out-of-focus picture next to it and a number underneath.  Keyleth handed it back.  “That’s me. Call.”  She leaned in for another quick peck and walked away.

 

Keyleth wandered back over to the bar but found Percy’s seat empty and her clutch missing.  “What the fuck?”  Her eyes searched the room and she quickly caught a large figure looming out of the darkness—a far-over-six-foot woman, arms like tree trunks, and black dreads thick on her head.  She stopped short of Keyleth and thrust out her hand, Keyleth’s clutch in the palm.

“Hey.  This is yours.”

“Um.  Oh, thanks.”

“Yeah, your friend is busy.  I think my friend is fucking him in the bathroom right now.”

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~Want to see that Percy/Molly scene? Let me know in the comments!~~ [The Percy/Molly story is up here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098536) and I'll be writing more of this AU (and Beau and Keyleth) [in this series!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/978684)
> 
> I am also [bboiseux on tumblr](https://bboiseux.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  **Introduction**  
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